March 17, 2017The Nurse Lifts the Clipboard & Replaces All Your Vital Signs
with scratch-n-sniff stickers. You undress in front of her
because your body looks like hers. She stuffs her purse
& your mouth full of blue paper gowns. It feels like
the Eucharist melting on your tongue or sleeping
so long your legs forget how they’re supposed to work.
Every metal object in this room hurts your eyes & has a name
everybody knows except for you. The nurse holds something
to your heart you call severed elephant trunk, wilted flower.
She hands your boxers to the doctor & asks if you’ll be going
under the knife today. She loves how those words feel
against her teeth. It’s her favorite phrase. Her lips are strawberry
red like they’ve gone under the knife. You want to say this
but you say nothing. The doctor raises an anatomically correct
penis to his lips & does a waltz. You demand his credentials.
He undoes his belt & begins to cry. At that very moment,
you realize you haven’t shaved your legs in years. The doctor
blows his nose into your boxers while the nurse reenacts
the video your fifth grade class watched on how boys & girls
love each other the right way with the right parts. You worry
the doctor will find out you have the wrong parts. If he ever
stops crying he will give you the medicine. You want to be
the medicine. You want to be sleeping so long your legs forget
how they’re supposed to be hairless. The nurse licks a sticker until
her mouth purples like a wound. The doctor scratches &
scratches till his fingers bleed & the room smells great &
the chart reads female & the doctor wants to know why
you’ve changed your name & whose underwear he’s holding.
from #54 - Winter 2016